


The Matter Of Being Not Quite Human

by Captain_Charlei



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:32:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Charlei/pseuds/Captain_Charlei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And thus Dean was left alone in the motel room with an angel of the lord. An angel of the lord that had just asked him, outright, about getting off, and appeared to be completely sincere about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Matter Of Being Not Quite Human

Dean had almost gotten used to the angel’s antics. But this? This was just -really- awkward. Not the kind of awkward that you laugh about a few days later, but the kind of awkward that you couldn’t ever live down. Especially when your little brother’s in the room, laughing at you. 

For the first time in a long time, Dean Winchester was struck silent. He shot a pleading look at Sam, downright begging for help. But Sam just laughed in his face, standing up and grabbing his bag on his way out the door. “Dude,” He said between laughs. “You’re so on your own.” 

And thus Dean was left alone in the motel room with an angel of the lord. An angel of the lord that had just asked him, outright, about getting off, and appeared to be completely sincere about it. 

It was his fault really, though he would never admit it. He shouldn’t have said what he did, the look of disbelief should have never crossed his face. 

“I knew you were a virgin, but now you’re telling me that in all of existence, you’ve never even gotten off?”

Dean could still feel the words on his tongue. He had meant it as a joke, an honest to God I-really-thought-you-were-kidding joke. He sighed and put his head in his hands. 

“Dean?” Castiel asked, almost expectantly. He was sitting on the couch, hands folded in his lap. 

The man in question that had been sitting across from him at the table looked up, the look of pure and utter horror melting away into a kind of disturbed pity. This probably would be -more- weird if it wasn’t so sad. They guy, or angel he supposed, had been around for literally ever, and he hadn’t even wanked? That must be so… depressing. 

He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to believe that he was doing this out of pity. 

“Alright, Cas.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So-“ Fuck this was so weird. “I mean, you know what it’s like to be hard, right?” 

Cas’s face pulled into a frown and his blue eyes narrowed. “I’m very well acquainted with the feeling of an erection, Dean.” 

He probably didn’t realize how wrong that sounded.   
“Then what-“ Dean gave a frustrated sigh. “It’s not rocket science, Cas. You just do what feels natural- good.” The last word came out a tad forced. “I shouldn’t need to teach you anything.” 

The angels face went blank, almost annoyed. “I don’t follow. According to you, this is a perfectly human need. You’ve shown me to a brothel, Dean, why is this any different?”

Dean groaned, but gave in. “Fine.” He slumped. “Sit on the bed. It’ll probably be more comfortable.” 

Cas did as he was told, sitting awkwardly on the end of the bed, looking out of place and so, so nervous. Dean could not believe he was doing this, so he chose not to think about it.   
“You can take off your coat and jacket.” Dean muttered, finally realizing how completely lost the poor guy was. 

The coat and jacket were discarded, leaving the Angel in nothing but his button up shirt, crooked tie, and trousers. He looked up at the Winchester, as if looking for direction. 

Oh God. 

“Well, you’ll need to get hard, Cas.” He coughed. 

The angel fidgeted. “I- uh.” 

Oh GOD. 

“You don’t-“ He squeezed his eyes shut. “Think about something that usually gets you that way.” 

“Like The Pizza Man?” 

Dean couldn’t help but to laugh. It was the only porn Cas had seen. “If you like.” 

Castiel didn’t move, just sat there and stared at him. Dean could almost see the wheels behind those innocent blue eyes turning, and all of a sudden, he felt dirty. Cas looked confused, frustrated even, and the way he was just watching him made the other man uncomfortable. 

“It’s not working.” He looked down at his feet, feeling what he presumed to be confused embarrassment. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” 

“Well-“ Dean pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Maybe what you were thinking about wasn’t doing it for you.” 

Cas sighed, looking at Dean with wide eyes. Slowly, they started to glaze over, darkening with what the man across from him knew was arousal. Dean felt his throat go dry as it dawned on him. Castiel, the angel, was aroused and sitting right there in front of him and staring.

“Try closing your eyes, Cas.” He said, voice lower and more gravely than he’d anticipated. 

Cas nodded a little, letting his eyes flutter closed. “Wh-what do I do?” His voice had also deepened, but held an edge to it, he was still nervous. 

“Relax, man, just run with it.” Dean tried to soothe. “Keep thinking about whatever it is you’re thinking about. And when you’re ready, you can- uh- get on with it.” 

A small breath of air left Cas’s lips. “What?”

“Cas, relax, what do you feel?” 

His brow furrowed, eyes still closed. “I feel-” He shifted unconsciously on the edge of the bed, accidentally bumping his erection with his folded hands. His breath hitched, he had obviously not been expecting that. “Uhm.”

Dean had to look away, it felt so -wrong- to be watching the guy. 

“Dean- I feel,” He paused briefly. “good.” His voice almost broke at the last syllable. Dean found his gaze back on the naïve angel, eyes wide. 

“Uh- alright. Just keep focusing on the feeling, Cas. Don’t think.”

The dark haired man nodded helplessly, shoulders slumping the smallest bit, but hands remaining perfectly still. 

“You can touch yourself, you know. That’s the point.” 

Blue eyes shot open, searching for green. The angel stiffened his back again, hands immediately leaving his lap and resting at his sides. “I-“ 

He looked so lost. 

“I don’t know how, Dean. I-“ 

“Close your eyes again, Cas.” Dean did his best to not look at the angel’s very obvious boner. That looked almost painful, the way it strained against the fabric. “Okay,” He continued when Castiel’s eyes had shut again. “I need you to trust me on this one.” 

“I trust you.” 

Dean felt himself smile at the sincerity of the statement, but it shattered the moment he thought about what he had to say next. He took a deep breath. 

“Undo your pants.” His voice was quiet, and for a second he was sure that Cas hadn’t heard him. 

That is, until the angel moved. With both eyes closed, he brought his hands up to his lap and started to fumble with the button, lower lip trembling and fingers shaking. Dean’s eyes widened ever so slightly, somehow, he was almost expecting—well, he wasn’t. 

The button had slipped apart, and Castiel had moved onto the zipper. One pale hand had searched for something to hold onto, starting with the fabric of his shirt, then to his tie, which loosened slightly, and finally coming to grip the waistband of his now undone pants. 

Dean was sure that it was not okay to think that Cas looked good like that, lightly flushed cheeks, parted lips, and that tie; loose, with just enough room to slip a hand up and grab the blue so he could pull—No, it was definitely not okay to think that. 

But, you know, Dean had never been one for listening to his conscious. 

“Okay, good.” His voice had meant to sound gentle and encouraging in a totally non-sexual way. What’d come out was rough, strained, and oh-so-sexual. Dean forced himself to shake his head in an attempt to rid himself of whatever it was that was lacing his voice with arousal. He cleared his throat, looked anywhere but Cas, and continued. “Alright, keep concentrating on the physical stuff- don’t think.” He repeated. 

A small halfhearted nod was his only movement, signaling to dean that he’d heard him. 

“Where do you want to feel?” Dean heard himself asking, doing his best to put the words ‘wrap your hand around your dick and go to town’ delicately. There was a deliberate pause, and for a moment, the hunter was genuinely afraid that he would have to say it. 

It all seemed to happen at once. He’d heard a rustle and glanced over to the angel in time to see an elegant set of fingers slowly disappearing under the elastic waistband of navy boxers, there was a seconds delay before a sharp inhale and a quiet ‘oh’ shattered Dean’s logic. He looked up at his face to discover that blue eyes had opened halfway, still lidded and so very heavy.

And looking right at him. 

Dean’s whole head stuttered, thoughts incoherent and jumbled. Somewhere, he knew he should just nod and laugh and say something witty about how it took him long enough to figure that out, have fun, don’t ever let me know about your problems again. His mouth opened, and for a fraction of a second he had resolve, he could end it now, he could- 

“Dean.”

He could-

He-

“There, Cas, not so hard is it?” His voice had lightened a little. See, no big deal, he could-

“On the contrary, it’s- it’s very much so.” Eyes opened a little wider, the last half of his sentence rushing out like a breathy moan. 

Oh. Of course Cas would take that the wrong way.

“It’ll feel better if you use your whole hand, Cas.” Fuck. No, he couldn’t. He was in too deep, far too gone. And the way the angel was just staring—heated and dense and so great. 

A little, uncertain nod, a little shift of his legs, spreading them just that little bit to give him enough room to-

“Nnnngh….” Eyes shutting as tightly as possible, lower lip sucked in and bitten, head falling forward and trying his best to stifle a groan. He was trembling, unoccupied hand now gripping the bed underneath him, his breathing began to steady a few seconds later. 

“Cas, you can move it now.” Dean was half-expecting Cas to stop, flushing and looking as mortified as he had earlier. 

But he didn’t, he started to move- gasping out and throwing his head back as his hand moved beneath layers of fabric. Dean frowned, trying to understand why his movements didn’t seem right. 

“Mm-“ The angel’s voice broke his concentration. Dean’s eyes shot into focus, suddenly realizing that somehow, Castiel was trying to speak. “Dean.” Cas was looking at him, brow furrowed slightly, frustration just barely being able to tint the mask of pure, raw want. 

“What’s wrong?” The man raised an eyebrow. 

“It- it’s not enough.” 

Dean’s head must’ve exploded, melted, and broken all in one second. He glanced down, trying to escape the powerful look that Cas was giving. Somewhere he made a mental note to never get uncomfortable with his normal stare again—it was nothing compared to sexed-over Castiel’s look. 

His attempts proved futile though, as his gaze fell to the man’s lap. He- he hadn’t even bothered to get out of his- he was still clothed. Cas’s hand only moved slightly, completely restrained by the fabric of his trousers and boxers. 

No wonder.

Somehow, Dean was standing, eyes suddenly fixed on Castiel’s. Then he was kneeling beside the bed, in front of Cas’s shivering form, eyes never once looking away. 

“Trust me.” He said before Cas could even form the question. Lean fingers reached forward, dipping into the sides of his trousers and pulling at them in one quick movement. A surprised gasp sounded from above him, and the hand that had been clinging to the bed was suddenly gripping the fabric of Dean’s shoulder. 

Cas’s other hand had stilled and pulled out of his boxers, now hovering in the air just to the side of Dean’s line of vision. He continued to pull gently at the material, waiting for that sound that he knew would come when Cas was free from the confines of his clothing. 

“Haaah-“ 

Dean smirked despite of himself, doing his absolute best not to look at the painfully erect thing that now stood proudly in his peripheral vision. Hot and ready and- 

Dammit. He looked. 

Unconsciously, he shifted back a little; suddenly very aware of how close he was to the angel’s very persistent problem. He wanted to move away entirely, but Cas’s grip on his shoulder had tightened. 

Dean looked back at his friend, who was now wide-eyed and still very much aroused. 

“There.” Dean heard himself say quietly. “Try it now.” 

Dean watched the frozen hand come to life, warily moving towards his lap and placing his palm against the shaft. 

Without wrapping his fingers around. 

Oh, Cas. 

Dean would’ve laughed, he honestly would’ve. But the fact that Cas was, well, Cas, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He did let an amused grin grace his lips as he thought about the noises that could come if the angel was actually doing it right. 

“Cas.” Dean wasn’t even sure what he was saying, or where he was going with this, but he couldn’t stop the words from slipping past his lips. “Trust me.” 

The realization that washed over Dean when he understood what he- what his body was about to do should have made him vomit. It should have. Instead, he looked up at Castiel, looking annoyed. “Don’t you dare tell Sammy.” There was a real threat behind it—Dean knew. 

“What are… you-“ Cas’s voice seemed to be regaining control, and Dean took in a deep breath, knowing that he’d have to do it now—before Cas realized what was going on. He looked down at his lap seeing that Cas’s hand had moved away again. 

What the hell. 

Without a further thought, Dean brought a hand to his lap and wrapped it around the base of Castiel’s cock in a loose fist. He raised his head and looked at him a renewed sense of twisted determination. Cas’s eyes were wide, lips parted, and he looked as if he might start trying to escape. 

A sly grin spread across Dean’s face. “Sorry, Cas, you were doing it wrong.” And with that he gave a single, firm, upward pull. 

The sound that exploded into the air around him was nothing short of sinful. Cas threw his head back for a second before gripping Dean’s shoulders and letting his head fall forward. His lip would probably have a bruise from the way he was biting it. 

“Good, right Cas?” Dean turned his attention back to his hand and began to move, working up to a steady rhythm. Cas’s breath grew ragged quickly. 

“So- nnng... Dean…” Cas began to tremble more violently, letting out his name in a way that was so down right wonderful that Dean almost groaned. His hand began to work faster, harder, occasionally letting his thumb run over the head, smearing precome down the rest of his shaft. Those little movements were the ones that elicited such wicked noises from Cas’s lips. 

“Dean what-“ His voice managed to break through his haze, broken and deep and so fucking perfect. “I feel-“ 

Dean looked up to meet his gaze, smiling a little at the confusion behind the blue of his iris. “S’okay, Cas.” Moving even faster, holding firmer. Cas fisted his hands in the front of Dean’s shirt, trying to keep himself from shaking too much, his eyes never left the hunters. 

“Cas, it’s okay.” He fought to keep his voice soothing. “Let go. That’s the point.” 

“Nnnn…. I- I can’t keep it- it’s so- Dean.” Blue eyes shut, lips panted harshly, it took Dean a few seconds to realize that the breaths were words. He leaned closer to the angel. 

“Dean, Dean, Dean….” His name, being chanted over and over like some prayer. 

Cas fell forward a little more, resting his forehead against Dean’s. He wasn’t going to last much longer, there was no way. 

“Come on, Castiel,” Dean whispered, not entirely aware he was speaking out loud.

“Come for me.” 

And that’s what did it. Cas threw his head back, neck straining, back arching, a strangled cry erupting from the back of his throat. Dean smiled despite himself, feeling Cas’s climax spill over his fingers, splattering the front of his shirt. He continued his movements, pumping the angel through his orgasm. 

He didn’t notice the stray drop that had landed on his cheek, nor did he notice the way that the other man’s seed had ruined his shirt. All he saw was Cas, the way his hips rolled in rhythm with Dean’s hand, unconsciously trying to get more, the way the angel’s cries waned as the waves of rapture faded. 

Finally, Cas slumped forward, eyes still closed, and Dean removed his hand. Slowly, the angel’s lids parted, and he looked at him with his jaw slack. 

Dean smiled a little nervously, determined not to let this get awkward. “Man, you came hard.” A little laugh forced it’s way out of his mouth. “What on earth were you thinking about?”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to be thinking.” Cas’s words were slow, like he wasn’t really sure how to speak yet. 

Dean didn’t know what to make of that. “Well, I mean, you have to had been thinking about something, otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten hard, let alone climaxed.” 

“I thought I said that the thinking didn’t work.” Cas sounded like he was both confused and slightly miffed. “So you told me to try something different, which is what I did.” Cas flushed, removing his hands from Dean’s shirt and attempting to put himself away. 

“Then how-“ Dean discovered himself dumbfounded and confused. He attempted to bush it off, laughing a little. “So you were imagining something, Cas, that’s called fantasizing. That’s what I meant by thinking.” He grinned a little. 

“I did nothing of the sort!” He snapped, suddenly angry—or embarrassed, Dean couldn’t tell. 

“Aw, come on!” Dean laughed a little harder. “Don’t tell me that my sexy voice got you off!” 

Castiel froze, eyes going wide in a silent, unspoken realization. Dean didn’t seem to notice the flinch, and continued to laugh at his own joke. 

“Dean, would you remove your hands from my knees?” 

Dean stopped, realizing that his hands were indeed on the other man’s knees, and he was still crouched in front of the bed. He recoiled immediately and stood, backing up a few steps. 

“Thank you.” Cas stood as well, grabbing his trench coat and jacket without looking back at Dean. 

“Cas?” There was something wrong. He knew it. The aura being given off by the angel was like that of a puppy that’d just gotten kicked in the face. 

“Your lesson was very informative.” He refrained from making eye contact. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

And then he was gone with a familiar whoosh of air. 

There were several things that the man noticed at once. One, the fact that his hand, shirt, and cheek were covered in an angel of the lord’s ejaculate, two, the fact that his own libido was straining painfully against his jeans, and three, he had enjoyed it. 

He ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and turning on the shower water to cold. He turned to the sink before catching a glimpse of himself in the old mirror. 

Him. Dean Winchester, stared back at him with lightly flushed cheeks, glazed eyes and another man’s climax splattered on his face. 

Castiel’s. 

His stomach lurched, but somehow, it wasn’t due to him wanting to vomit. He shook his head. Dean Winchester wasn’t gay, dammit, Dean Winchester was a ladies man, Dean Winchester liked to fuck women!

Dean Winchester had also just willingly given a hand job to an angel. A very male angel. With a di- 

No. 

Just. No. 

\--

Sam came back a few hours later, smiling, and holding up McDonald’s. Dean had been sitting at the kitchen table, nose buried in his dad’s journal. He didn’t really notice Sam’s entrance, and only looked up when his brother put the food in front of him. 

“So.” The younger Winchester grinned wickedly. “How’d it go?”

“What?” Dean looked up to glare at his brother before grabbing a burger. 

“Cas seemed pretty adamant that you explain a few things to him.” Sam snickered. 

“Yeah, thanks, you dick.” Dean was not okay with this conversation. “I told him to go get some porn and go figure it out himself.” The lie was so like him that it was convincing. Almost. “Seriously, don’t you ever make me do that again. Next time he asks something weird, you’re the one who’s going to explain it.”

Sam shrugged. “He asked you, not me.” He said, ending the conversation. “Where is he anyway?” 

Dean didn’t say anything for a second. “I don’t know.” He answered finally with a nonchalant shrug. “If you need him, why don’t you call him?” 

“He doesn’t usually answer me, Dean.” He chomped down on a fry. “Besides, I don’t think we’ll need his help with this one.” He looked at his brother who had returned to the journal. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Well, I don’t know, but coming back and finding you doing something useful is pretty suspicious.” 

“Fuck you.” 

\--

Cas didn’t show his face for weeks, and somehow, Dean was content with that. He was more than okay with it. He was glad. He’d convinced himself that he’d rather never see the angel again than to have to come to terms with it. 

By the fourth week, Sam had started to wonder. Dean just shrugged it off, falsely attributing their angels prolonged absence to some “weird angel mojo shit or whatever” before going back to focusing on driving.

By the fifth week, Dean had noticed something was seriously wrong, but denied it. Sure, Cas still hadn’t made any contact with them, but that was okay. This? This was not. 

Dean hadn’t gotten laid in weeks, even before it happened. There just hadn’t been any time between hunts, or during hunts for that matter. So, needless to say, he was teeming with unsatisfied sexual frustrations. Fine, whatever, it wasn’t the first time he’d needed to- you know—that. 

That thing that he couldn’t think about without having terrible visions of it. 

But, he hadn’t had any real opportunities to do it anyway, so, he hadn’t had to worry about it. That is, until Sam left the bar with a girl, leaving Dean to go back to the motel room. Alone. 

He’d stood there, in the middle of the unfamiliar motel room, feeling lost and very, very pissed off. Eventually, he sighed in utter defeat and went to his duffle, which contained a random magazine covered in scantily clad women which- which- 

Did absolutely nothing for him. 

Half an hour of fantasizing and looking, and all he could come up with was a pathetic excuse of a semi-erect dick. He threw the magazine against the opposite wall and stood, pulling his boxers back up and marching to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. 

The hot water did little to soothe him. He stood there in the shower, his back leaned against the wall, and his eyes closed. He had all of this pent up sexual frustration, and he didn’t even know how to get rid of it. 

Man, that’s pathetic. Not even knowing how to make himself feel good—how sad. That must’ve been what Cas had felt like. 

Cas. 

Cas. 

Somewhere in the back of his brain he could almost hear him, the positively indecent sounds that dripped past his lips. He could almost feel him, hot, throbbing, and so sensitive. And oh, Dean could see him, lips flushed, and those eyes, half lidded and watching Dean with such intensity, heated, shameless in their want. Something primal clenched in his belly, and Dean’s eyes shot open and glanced warily downward. 

What. 

When did- how- why was he so hard? More importantly, what had he just been thinking about? Somehow he was exuberant, suddenly very sure that he wasn’t suffering from erectile dysfunction or some shit, though part of him had known that all along. 

He ran through his usual fantasies, hand trailing down his chest and then south. All he could think of seeing were these faceless illusions, ghosting across his body, doing such marvelously filthy things to him. A hand braced against the wall as the other wrapped almost instinctively around his shaft and started pumping in a ruthless rhythm. He had no patience, not this time, he wanted it quick and dirty and now. 

The mirage in his head was on it’s knees, it’s hands gripping Dean’s hips firmly, as if to keep him still. It was amazing that he could be so dominated by someone on their knees. He let out a sharp breath, just as the apparition took him in their mouth, almost smirking around his cock. 

“Mmmnn.” The needy moan that ripped its way into the steam around him would have, on any other occasion, made him angry. But it was so good.

Dean was too far gone, his daydream self fisted his hands in the phantoms hair, his real self moved faster, harder, he wasn’t sure which one was real anymore. He tossed his head back in both worlds, all too aware that he was so close. 

Of course, that’s when he noticed it. 

The hair that he’d been pulling slipped from his fingers because it was short, really short. And dark, and already looked like sex hair…short. The faceless dream was now looking at him from their knees, with clouded, wanting, eyes that watched his contorted face with such shameless abandon that Dean knew. He knew and he wanted—he couldn’t stop. This was not okay, he knew those eyes, he knew them but he couldn’t accept who they belonged to or he would-

Castiel

He would come undone, just like he did, eyes flying open with a shout and white hitting the blue tile of the shower wall. He rode it out, momentarily not caring because that had to be one of the best orgasms he’d ever had. He slumped heavily against the tile, completely spent. 

And then the bliss faded, leaving him with such gnawing, painful guilt that he wanted to double over and vomit right there. 

Nope. This was not okay. 

\--

Sam looked over at his brother, who’d been in a foul mood since he got back. At first he’d thought it was because he’d walked in at three AM, and probably woke him up. Except, Dean hadn’t been sleeping.

No, Dean had been sitting at the kitchen table, mindlessly munching on a mini fruit pie with probably the most disgusted, angry, positively furious look he’d ever seen on his brother. 

“Dean?” Sam cautiously took a step towards him. 

Dean didn’t move to look at him. “What.” The word wasn’t a question, more like a statement on how much he didn’t want to talk about ‘what’. 

“Are you-“ 

“No.” Dean cut him off, putting down the barely eaten treat and grabbing his keys. 

“Where are you-“

“Out.” 

Sam rolled his closed eyes and huffed. “I don’t know what happened between you and Castiel, Dean, but stop being such an idiot and get the fuck over it.” 

Dean scowled and turned, making sure he had the keys to the Impala, and walked out of the room. “Bitch.” 

“Jerk!” Sam called after him without moving. A sly smirk crawled onto his lips and he hit the send button on his phone. 

He gave himself a good three minutes to feel proud of his cunning, and to make sure Dean was gone, before getting up and grabbing his laptop bag and practically skipping out of the room. 

\--

When Dean came back, Sam wasn’t in the room, but when his eyes scanned the motel room, he found himself draw in a breath. Cas sat on the edge of one of the beds, with his back facing him. The angel was slumped over, undoubtedly looking down at his clasped hands. 

Dean growled inwardly, throwing his jacket and keys down on the table with unnecessary force and slamming the door behind him. Cas jumped, but didn’t turn around. 

“Where’s Sam.” Dean snapped bitterly, making sure not to make any sort of eye contact with the figure on the other side of the room. Cas didn’t answer immediately. When he finally did, his voice was barely audible, and Dean scowled at the bottle he’d gotten out of the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table. “What’d you say?” 

“I said I don’t know.” Cas’ voice was rougher than usual, cracked and sounded like his voice was hoarse. “He told me to wait here.” 

“What do you mean?” Dean snarled, “Why?” If he saw the flinch that made it’s way through the angel at his tone, he ignored it.

“I don’t know.” Cas tilted his head up at the ceiling as he spoke. “He sent me a message. On my phone.” 

Dean slammed his bottle down on the table. “That son of a bitch.” He heaved an annoyed sigh before continuing. “Sorry, but Sam’s not here right now, you can go.” 

“I can’t.” Cas didn’t turn around.

“And why’s that?” The Winchester fixed his most menacing glare on the back of the angels head. When Cas didn’t answer, Dean followed his gaze upwards. “Is that…?” 

Cas only nodded and looked at the chalk lines drawn on the ceiling. “A trap. It seems Sam has been busy.” 

“Son of a bitch.” The hunter breathed, half in disbelief and half in fury. He knew what his brother was up to, it was kind of hard to miss. After a few minutes, he closed his eyes and crossed his arms. “Where’ve you been?”

The angel looked over his shoulder for a brief second before returning his gaze to his feet. “Elsewhere.” He said, simply. “It seemed wise to avoid conflict.” 

Dean scoffed. “Conflict?” He opened his eyes again and looked at his friend. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Cas stood and walked over to the hunter, stopping just a few inches in front of Dean’s seated knees. He looked down and fixed him with a menacing glare. “I mean, Dean Winchester, that in order to avoid your ridiculous, childish need to lash out at everything that makes you uncomfortable, I kept my distance.” 

“I don’t lash out.” He countered, childishly. “Nothing’s making me uncomfortable.” 

Cas smiled wryly. “Is that so.” 

“Yeah.” Dean gulped, but out of stubbornness alone, managed to keep eye contact. Without warning, Castiel sank to his knees before him and gripped his denim-clad shins, fitting his shoulders comfortably between Dean’s thighs. “Cas, Cas what are you doing?” His voice came out higher than anticipated, and he cleared his throat. 

Cas looked up at him and smirked before leaning his face forward and taking a hold of his jeans with his mouth. In a disturbingly short amount of time, he’d worked his mouth along and unbuttoned them, and Dean was watching as an angel of the lord pulled down his zipper with his teeth. 

“Cas—what…uhm.” Dean would be lying if he said that a jolt of arousal didn’t shoot through his whole body at the sight. His fingers had somehow found their way to his hair, to push him away or pull him closer Dean wasn’t even sure anymore. Cas moved his lips upwards, nuzzling the plane of the hunter’s stomach just enough to push the cotton of his tee up so he could plant small, gentle kisses across his quivering skin. 

“Dean.” He breathed, the word ghosting across the skin of Dean’s abdomen and causing it to jump. “What’re you thinking about?” 

“Mn- what?” His head was jumbled, making the process of registering what was asked of him take longer than necessary. 

The jeering tone of the angel’s voice didn’t go unnoticed. “If I recall correctly,” He paused to rest a open kiss to the skin right above the waistband of his boxers. “You told me that in order to become erect, you had to be thinking about something.” 

Dean’s eyes shot open. “I’m not—“ His eyes fell downward to look at Cas, who was now looking up at him, his mouth resting dangerously close to the bulge that’d formed in his boxers.

“If you were about to tell me that you weren’t erect, Dean,” He brushed his lips over the thin layer of cotton that covered him. “I’d really beg to differ.” 

“Cas…” The hunter’s voice strained and his fingers gripped the hair under them tighter. He pushed then, pulling Cas’ head away from his crotch, as stupid and sentimental as it was, there was something that had to come first. 

The angel blinked in confusion, but allowed himself to be pulled away. “Dean, what—“ 

“Certain things have to happen first, Cas.” He breathed, hoping that Cas would understand. The angel just tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow. “Look, if this is going where I think it is, there are certain… pleasantries that need to be exchanged.” 

“Dean, I don’t understand.” He deadpanned, looking confused and almost hurt. 

“Yeah,” He gave a small huff. “I didn’t expect you to.” And with that, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Castiel’s softly. Cas stiffened for barely a second, before completely melting into Dean. 

Their lips moved together gently at first, giving the angel the time to get his bearings. Castiel, however, turned out to be a fast learner. Before Dean could even register what was going on, the kiss had shifted into a heavy battle for dominance. 

Cas reached up, weaving his fingers into his hunter’s hair and pulling them closer together. Slowly, he broke away, panting, eyes half-lidded and cheeks lightly flushed. “Dean, not that the kitchen is wonderful, but aren’t their places better suited for such activities?”

Dean gave a lopsided grin, leaned forward, and whispered something into Cas’ ear. The angels’ eyes widened and he found himself nodding eagerly for a split second before standing, grabbing his hand, and pulling the Winchester further into the room and onto the bed. 

\--

Sam had been smiling when he unlocked the door the next morning. He had been. But there are some things that are guaranteed to wipe a smile off your face. 

Seeing your brother in a tangle of naked limbs with an angel… that was a fine example.

**Author's Note:**

> :3 Why wasn't there a final sex scene? Because everyone is entitled to some privacy, guys, even fictional characters.


End file.
